


Peace, Goodwill and Candy Canes

by jamestiqueeriuskirk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, M/M, Pre-Slash, Religious Discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamestiqueeriuskirk/pseuds/jamestiqueeriuskirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for FYSL's Holiday Hellatus. </p><p>In which Sam argues with the Devil about the true meaning of Christmas, and there's candy canes. Or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace, Goodwill and Candy Canes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TalkMagically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkMagically/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [和平、善意與拐杖糖](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392510) by [reflux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reflux/pseuds/reflux)



> I may have to go back and edit some of this later. It's not what I usually write, and it gave me some trouble. Not sure how I feel about it.
> 
> Also, a bit of religious talk which I suppose could offend some, but if you've purposely sought out fic about the Devil, I think you can probably handle it. Your call.
> 
> There's a cover, if you go find this work on fuckyeahsamlucifer.tumblr.com when it's posted there.

Lucifer spent the birth of Jesus in the cage. He’d also spent December 25th similarly, later that year, and that was the date that mattered, to the humans. It was nothing to him, besides another reminder he was no longer God’s favorite son (he’d been usurped by a being he’d never even met, never even heard tell of through his long years of isolation, certainly never tempted in the desert, despite what Matthew had to say on the subject. The only birth he’d felt in the cage, cut off from the Host as he was, had been Sam’s, and it felt more like the coming of a messiah to him than anything Gabriel had announced two thousand years ago).

The festivities he encountered in his first months on Earth puzzled him as much as they aroused his curiosity. The nature of Jesus was alien to him, but he was all too familiar with the nature of angels, and even those who’d shut their hearts to him when he refused to bow to humanity felt no more good will towards man than their Father had commanded of them. God Himself was the only one who adored his last creation, and His presence was notably absent, wherever Lucifer searched for it. And yet the humans worshipped Heaven, worshipped his Father’s Son and even his brothers and sisters. He’d tried sifting through Nick’s memories on the subject, but they were hazy and difficult for him to understand as Nick’s consciousness faded to the recesses of his mind. His demons could surely have offered some insight, having once been human themselves, but he found the notion of their leader’s lack of omniscience greatly distressed those he’d bothered questioning. 

Perhaps Sam’s knowledge would prove more enlightening, once Sam consented to be joined with him.

If he ever did. He was holding out far longer than anticipated.

-

While he’d lived with Jess, Sam had actually allowed himself to get into the holiday spirit. Jess had hated Christmas music, but she’d loved Christmas movies, and Sam’s bleak childhood Christmases had been overshadowed by his memories of curling up on the couch with Jess, watching cartoons he had to pretend fond familiarity with. It was almost a disappointment to him when he found Dean’s attitudes on Christmas hadn’t changed at all (save for the one year, but after coming back from Hell, Dean cared even less about Christmas).

He was approaching his fifth Christmas without Jess, and he doubted it would involve watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, from the way things were shaping up. It would probably be spent alone in a motel somewhere, with Dean away, getting drunk, and Lucifer hanging around in his dreams. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Lucifer was one of the steadiest presences in his life right now.

-

Castiel’s fascination with humanity knew no bounds. What enthusiasm managed to escape the widening cracks in his stoic mask was quickly picked up on by Dean, who seemed more willing to explain Christmas traditions to the angel than he was to observe them with his brother.

The motel they checked into a week before Christmas, on the trail of demonic activity in Maine (not a typical winter destination of theirs, with the limited mobility the snow caused, but the impending apocalypse made every case an emergency) had a Christmas tree in the lobby. It was a pathetic thing: plastic needles shining under the harsh lights as if in reminder it wasn’t real, sparsely ornamented, and completely devoid of lights (“fire hazard,” the clerk explained), its one redeeming quality was that it had been draped almost completely in candy canes, and a “take one” sign was camped out beneath it. Castiel took to the wonky thing immediately, solemnly questioning Dean on the cultural significance of such a symbol while the clerk eavesdropped on a grown man who’d evidently never encountered a Christmas tree over the top of her magazine.

“Dude, just take one,” Dean had said, yanking down a couple of candy canes and shoving them into Castiel’s hand. Castiel did not protest, as he could hardly tell Dean there was no need for him to eat in front of the clerk, but he held them gingerly, his expression more somber than probably anyone who’d ever held a candy cane before, even when they got back to the room and Dean commanded him to eat.

“Uh, Castiel?” As far as the angel went, Sam wasn’t sure where he stood. Castiel had latched onto Dean magnificently, but he still seemed to harbor some animosity towards him. Even then, he was the friendliest angel in Sam’s life right now. 

Well. Second friendliest.

“Yes, Sam?” He asked, turning his disconcerting gaze on Sam.

“You have to, uh, unwrap it before you eat it.”

“Thank you, Sam.” The wrapper simply vanished. Castiel made quick work of the candy cane after that.

-

 

“Tonight, I have a question for you, Sam.”

He was caught somewhat off-guard by this. Inquisition wasn’t Lucifer’s usual mission. First, he’d come into Sam’s dreams bearing words of persuasion, mumbled adorations alternated with rational entreaties. It all boiled down to one message, however: he wanted Sam to say yes, and he planned to use every offer in his arsenal to seduce him. Power and riches, Sam could do without, and so Lucifer didn’t offer them for long. The lives Lucifer promised to restore were vastly outweighed by the casualties the apocalypse would herald in, so Sam held fast. But Lucifer knew Sam like he knew himself, and Sam couldn’t help but be tempted by Lucifer’s knowledge (“I was there when the universe was only stardust, Sam. I know so much. Let me share it with you.”), so however much he protested Lucifer’s increasingly frequent intrusions into his dreams, he couldn’t help but want to listen to what Lucifer had to say. He gave Sam any answers he wanted, from that first horrifying time Sam let him know he was paying attention by asking a question, and so far, without a catch.

“What is it?” Sam was still somewhat wary. The “question” probably began with “will you” and ended in “say yes”.

“Why do humans do so much in the name of an absent god?” 

He hadn’t expected that. “Why are you holding out when we both know you want to say yes”, maybe. “Is there anything I can get you that I haven’t offered several times already”, sure. But what sounded like genuine curiosity about the motives of humanity? Never. Then again, there was probably a trick in here somewhere. Arguing Sam into a position where he was forced to admit humans were irrational and the earth would do better without them, or something.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“All this.” Lucifer said, making a sweeping gesture at the lights outside the window. The dream-motel was much more festive than its real-world equivalent, though sometimes less structurally sound. “They go to great lengths, put on a great show, and for what? There’s little point in trying to impress a god that doesn’t care for your efforts.”

He sounds almost bitter, and Sam isn’t really sure this is entirely about Christmas, but he tries his best to answer in a way that will satisfy Lucifer and not doom humanity. “A lot of people have faith. They don’t need proof.” He knows. He was once one of them, before he realized Satan was the least disappointing of the Heavenly Host.

“But many of the most vocal of my Father’s so-called followers have no faith at all.” And if Lucifer is talking about televangelists, Sam can’t help him, so he tries to tackle explaining secular Christmas to the Devil instead.

“Not everyone celebrating Christmas believes in God.” He waits for a reaction to that, because Lucifer isn’t half as sacrilegious as he’d once expected, and he thinks he might actually take offense at the misappropriation. Jesus was, like, his brother or something, right? “Sometimes, Christmas is just about tradition, or family, or…” He searches for something else, something Lucifer will consider worthwhile.

“Money?”

“Yes, but mostly that’s just companies. People aren’t really as greedy as you make them out to be.” Lucifer doesn’t look convinced, and Sam realizes this is pretty much a lost cause, and a stupid one at that. “Forget it. You can materialize anything here, right?”

“So can you,” Lucifer assures without question, though he looks puzzled at the change in subject.

“Oh, yeah.” Sam walks over to the mini-fridge and pulls out a carton of eggnog. There’s a bottle of bourbon and two glasses waiting for him on the table when he returns. He pours an eggnog for himself, and slides a glass over to Lucifer. If the closest to Christmas he’s going to come this year is arguing with Satan, he might as well be drunk enough to find it funny.

He’s downed the whole glass before Lucifer deigns to try his drink. The eggnog has barely touched his lips and already he sets the glass down, pulling a face. Sam thinks he’s never looked so human. “Vile. What is this?”

“The reason for the season.” And Sam’s pouring out another glass, just bourbon this time.

-

They’ve been snowed in when Sam wakes up the next morning, and Dean’s restless channel-flipping starts to drive Sam crazy around nine, so he takes to the lobby in the hopes the little lounge area will have better coffee than the tasteless hot water produced by their room’s coffee machine. There’s no coffee at all, so he returns, dejected, with nothing but another candy cane to show for his efforts.

“Don’t let Cas catch you with that,” Dean warns. “He’s become insatiable. I’m only half joking.”

Maybe I should save one for Lucifer, Sam thinks to himself, and he’s only a little freaked out to have thought it. Lucifer would presumably still take over his body at the drop of a hat, but he’d become quite comfortable ensconced in Sam’s life while he waited.

Which was probably bad.

-

 

Lucifer seemed surprised when Sam presented him with a candy cane that night. Almost suspicious. Maybe the eggnog had been a betrayal of his trust.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing. Most people like them.”

“I am not ‘most people’.” Sam realizes it’s true once Lucifer’s said it. Still, he takes the candy.

-

Sam is alone in his dreams Christmas Eve, and without Lucifer to anchor him there, the familiar motel walls twist themselves until he’s stumbling his way through the surreality of a normal dream. It’s not as comforting as he thought it would be.

Christmas night is the same, and Sam doesn’t see Lucifer again until a few nights after that.

“Where have you been?”

“Missed me, Sam?” Lucifer asks, sounding pleased, though surprised.

Sam checks himself before he can say “of course.” He’s not supposed to like Lucifer’s presence here, after all. If Dean knew he was tolerating it, he’d be in deep shit. The fragile trust he was building with Castiel would be all but shattered. “Better you’re here with me than out causing trouble.”

Lucifer sees through it, and sits down beside Sam on the bed, their legs brushing, because angels have a good grasp on many concepts, but personal space isn’t one of them. “If it’s any consolation, I prefer my time here with you to my time commanding hordes of demons.”

“You don’t have to do that, if you don’t want to.” It’s weak, but if he doesn’t try to stop the apocalypse at least once a night, he feels guilty the next morning.

“We both know that’s not true, Sam.” Lucifer turns to face him, something like sadness in his eyes, and now their knees are brushing. “I can’t fight destiny any more than you can. We’re drawn together for a reason.”

Sam knows it, but the reminder makes him angry. He actually, genuinely wants to spend time with Lucifer at this point, and the fact that all this is part of some grand scheme, that to Lucifer he’s only the most important piece in a cosmic chess game against Heaven is something he’d rather not dwell on. “Can we not talk about it, for one night?”

“Of course,” Lucifer promises, surprising Sam by squeezing his hand in his own.

Sam reminds himself angels don’t understand human social norms, but his breath is still caught in his throat long into the early morning, even as Lucifer prattles about the creation of Saturn’s rings, his hands far from Sam’s.

-

The next night, Sam notices the candy cane in Lucifer’s front pocket.

“Is that the candy cane I gave you?” He asks, his lip twitching into a smile.

A strange look comes with his reply. “Of course. Where else would I have found one?”

“You were supposed to eat it, you know.”

“I’m an angel, Sam.” He’s reminded, gently. It’s one of Lucifer’s most used lines.

Fair enough. Lucifer wasn’t like Castiel. He didn’t think anything of humanity. Christmas confections weren’t something he concerned himself with. “You could have just thrown it away, then.” He wonders if maybe the thought just never occurred to Lucifer, like emptying his pockets was beneath him. Maybe if he dug through his jeans he’d find spare change and gum wrappers, left behind by his vessel.

Lucifer frowns. “But you gave it to me.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, but…” He can’t think of any way to counter that. His throat feels tight. Lucifer is older than galaxies and he cares about a crappy piece of spun sugar that, as far as Sam can tell, isn’t even real (he’s never been able to transfer anything created in one of these dreams to the waking world, but it may be different for Lucifer), all because Sam gave it to him. Lucifer, for his part, doesn’t seem to realize he’s said anything out of the ordinary, and Sam decides it’s best not to do anything that could be considered taunting.

Instead, he offers Lucifer another (“this way, you can eat one if you like), and it’s weird as Hell, but Lucifer accepts.

-

“Can I ask you something?”

“Always, Sam.”

“That night, with the eggnog.” Lucifer wrinkles his nose at the memory. “I didn’t stop at one glass. I got pretty tipsy.” The mechanics of intoxication in his own dream still escape him, but he doesn’t ask for an explanation. “Why didn’t you try to get me to say yes then?”

“A ‘yes’ hardly counts if obtained under those circumstances. Some of my brothers, no doubt, would have no qualms taking advantage of your dulled senses to force themselves upon you, but I promised I would never trick you. I do not lie, Sam. If you come to me, it must be of your own desire, not as the result of a seed I’ve planted in your mind while it was in a state of heightened vulnerability.”

“’If’?” That’s the first time Sam’s heard it presented like that, as an option instead of an inevitability. Even at his most gentle, Lucifer has always operated under the assumption obtaining a “yes” was a matter of “when,” not “if”.

“Yes, Sam. You and your brother’s stubborn dismantling of my efforts to start the apocalypse have forced me to consider that the Divine plan may need some adjustment.”

Sam reaches out for Lucifer’s hand, the first time he’s initiated contact, before he can take the time to feel weird about it. Lucifer takes it enthusiastically, and Sam supposes he’s probably royally fucked, apocalypse or not.

Preferably “or not”.


End file.
